A Single Year and a Day - Themes to Address

The themes have been set and I wanted them to all be in one place for easy reference. I'm going to be needing these a lot over the next several months.

1. Learn to be comfortable alone.
2. Determine personal wants/needs/likes outside of external input. 
1. Do more thinking about what I think and less about what others think.
3. Find what I love about being me and not only love it but celebrate it.
4. Take time to do the rituals and meditations that help.
5. Learn and apply the techniques needed to feel freely again.
6. Set goals and create plan for a sound body and better physical health.

I like these themes. It lays out a plan for me. They may change as the year progresses, but it's a good starting point. 

A Single Year and a Day - Day 3

Goal: Figure out what I want and need from this exercise

Timeframe: 3 days (last day)

Process: Track mental gymnastics and look for thoughts/attitudes to change

Success: Define at least six overarching themes to focus on

Progress: [Complete] 

Years ago, I felt everything... deeply. Heart on my sleeve? Nah. Heart on my whole shirt, maybe my skirt and socks, too. I cried freely and I laughed heartily. I loved with all of my heart, and I gave my emotional all to all those with whom I came into contact. Remembering that time in my life, I remember the freedom that came with that way of living. My emotions weren't volatile, just... out there for the world to see.

Over the years, with tragedy and injury after tragedy and injury, I closed in on myself. It's not that my emotions aren't there. I just can't access them like I used to. They're... frozen in my chest in a block of ice. Every now and then, the ice will melt and I'll feel a bit. Not a lot, but something. 

The weight of that block of ice is daunting. The pressure, the stress of carrying it, the fear that it will never melt. What if those emotions are never released? What if my fear of being hurt again keeps me from being able to love freely again?

I do feel, but it's muted. Like the ice filters my emotions, chills it to keep it from burning too hot. I dunno. Is this just what happens as an adult? Your heart lives freely in the beginning, but over the years, callouses form. Every painful thing said - "You know, I don't think I ever loved you." - and loss - "I'm sorry, but your baby was just too small to make it." - and tragedy - "I've been sleeping with other people." - rubs against your heart, dragging gores into the flesh which eventually scab over. Over time, that beautiful heart that sang with every sunrise struggles to hum over anything. 

There's a mental health diagnosis for this kind of thing. It's called Depersonalization-Derealization Disorder. That's the extreme version, the one where a person has lost all sense of connection to the world because the scabs and callouses have completely covered their heart. They've completely emotionally checked out. Their heart is a geode.

This terrifies me. How many more tragedies am I away from that? What will have to happen to push me into that status?

Yeah, okay, I'm just not willing to go there. So I need to figure out how to melt that ice, shave those callouses, crack that geode. Whatever crappy metaphor you want to use, that. I need to figure out how to do that. 

Theme 5: Learn and apply the techniques needed to feel freely again.

I don't remember where I heard this, but recently I heard someone talking about what makes a great relationship. They said that when someone makes you want to grow and be better for that person, that's how you know you're where you should be. At first, this really resonated with me. Wow, I thought. Yes! I want to be better, and I have this incentive. To be better for him. 

What. The. Fuck? Like, seriously?

There are a lot of things that I need to be better at, and I will continue to work on those things with or without a man in my life. Because I deserve (this is a word that I struggle with and will likely come back to another time) to be the best person I can be. End. Of. Story. The only way to get there is by picking myself up and doing the things. Not because or despite of some guy, but because I need to be better. 

The sentiment should really have been that when someone makes you want to grow and be better with that person. Together, you both strive to be so much more than you thought you could be on your own. Not one or the other, but both of you. 

This is 100% where I fail. I am exceptional at helping others become better versions of themselves, without finding someone willing to do the converse. It's not that they're users, so much as they simply can't/won't/don't know how to help me be the best version of myself.

I've always interpreted that as they clearly don't love me. If they did, they'd do this for me. The more that I think about it, though, the more that I realize that love isn't the big factor here. It's laziness. They very well might love me, but they simply cannot get up the gumption to be that person for me, even when I've done it for them. Worse, they honestly think they have because they've said, "Yeah, I think grad school would be good for you!" Whereas I have hunted down application documents, helped write countless essays, and oftentimes done everything but actually send the application myself to help him. 

The resentment is strong in me on this. I want someone that I can trust (oh man...) to walk me through those steps when necessary. This has become my litmus test in my mind. 

However... I'm dedicated to being single for a year and a day. So I have to be my own incentive. I have goals, things I want to accomplish outside of rebuilding my soul and uncovering my heart. These should be as important as everything else. Not to attract a man. Not to keep a man. Not for any reason other than I deserve to be a better me. 

Theme 6: Set goals and create plan for a sound body and better physical health.

A Single Year and a Day - Day 2

Goal: Figure out what I want and need from this exercise

Timeframe: 3 days (2 days left)

Process: Track mental gymnastics and look for thoughts/attitudes to change

Success: Define at least six overarching themes to focus on

Progress: 4 of 6 

Today ... was a day. My son and I went to my ex's place to get the rest of my things, and walking through the house, scouring the backyard for the dogs' toys... all of it, hurt. I teared up as I said my good-byes to an empty house, wishing it could be different. I laughed a lot in that house. I felt comfortable and at ease there. Even though I still have a key, I honestly don't know if I'll ever see the inside of it again. 

Because I'm me, my mind went to the next woman he'll bring there. What will she think? How will he act with her? Will he be in love with her, passionate and playful? Will she be able to break through in a way that I couldn't? 

I'm jealous of someone he may not even know yet. What am I jealous of? Am I jealous that he'll be with someone else? Yes, but only in so much as it's a representative of what I'm not. Whomever she will be, she will be something I'm not. Thinner, prettier, funnier, smarter... what will it be about her that will catch and possibly keep him? What will she have that will bring up the passion that he couldn't find with me? What is wrong with me that will be right with her?

And that's kind of the thing. Intellectually, I know that some relationships work and others don't, and sometimes there just isn't a logical, coherent reason why. Two humans in a relationship means that there are dynamics that can't be accounted for on paper. Intellectually, I know this. And intellectually, I know that he was right to break up. My head is very much in agreement. But my heart...?

Yeah, that gets tricky. I do not doubt for one second that I love him. I want only good things for him. I really do want him to be happy. At the same time, I know that a big part of why this breakup hurts is because once again, I was found wanting. I wasn't enough. I was too fat, too bossy, too... me. If only I'd have worked harder, done more, acted more sexy, it would have been different. If only I'd... 

... not been me. 

That's what I'm bemoaning. That I wasn't woman enough to keep a man. It doesn't matter if he's the wrong man for me or not. It doesn't matter if I knew that I wanted more than he was able to give. What matters is that I failed. I wasn't enough. I lack... something. Again. Because as a twice-divorced woman with almost no singledom in between, what I keep telling myself is that I... lack. Intrinsically. Internally. Externally. I don't know what it is because I can't put my finger on it. If I could, I'd fix it. I'd be more. I'd work harder. I'd ...

... not be me.

I need to remember that it's not all about whether or not I was enough. Sometimes, it's about whether he's enough for me. Sometimes, it's about whether that relationship fills my head, my heart, and my soul. Sometimes, I'm enough, but the relationship just isn't.

Theme 3: Find what I love about being me and not only love it but celebrate it.

A number of friends have reached out to me over the past couple of days. I've gotten a lot of love, support, and just plain kindness. Some have offered words of advice from having gone through something similar; others have offered anecdotes about what their single-by-choice life has meant to them. Some just wanted me to know that they were around and cared. 

One friend very pointedly told me that I'm only as alone as I want to be because I could always reach out. 

If you know me, you already know that's really hard for me to do. My best friend will text me to ask me how I'm doing, to which I'll say, "Oh, you know. But how are you? How did X go? Tell me all about how life is going for you!" And she will immediately call me out for deflecting. She will steer me back to my life, my woes, my fears, my concerns. Because she knows me well, she watches for it, and counters it. To my face, if you can believe it!

So, for the past couple of years, I've been working on not doing that. To understand that when my friends ask me how I'm doing, they actually want to know. It's not like my boss asking me in passing by the water cooler how everything is. No, these people really do care. They want to listen. Most importantly, I'm not a burden when I start with, "I'm really hurting today, and I could use a shoulder for a bit." 

This means the world to me. Many of these people have been my lifeline since the end of my marriage when I went into a black abyss with no way to get out on my own. Nonetheless, I still believe that self-soothing is an important skill to have. It's why I started meditating years ago. I could find my peace even if I couldn't ask for a hand. 

Now that I have hands aplenty, and many shoulders, I've backed away from meditating, and I think that's a problem. I think that a large part of my problems stem from my lack of centering, finding my soul, and focusing internally on where I feel out of balance. I need to get back there. I need to find my soul again, and spend some time taking care of it.

Theme 4: Take time to do the rituals and meditations that help.

A Single Year and a Day - Day 1

Goal: Figure out what I want/need from this exercise
Timeframe: 3 days
Process: Track mental gymnastics and look for thoughts/attitudes to change
Success: Define at least six overarching themes to focus on

I didn't cry when he said what he said. I didn't cry when I lay in the bed, wide awake, listening to his quiet snore that I love so much. I didn't cry while I packed my things. I didn't cry when I told my friends about the break up.

It's not that I didn't care. I love him. But he made the right decision - even if I fault him for his timing and methods. We were buddies first, and only rarely lovers. We just don't belong together as a couple right now. I'm still emotionally damaged from my marriage, and he has his own issues. I understand this, and while it hurt that he stepped away like he did, intellectually, I got it.

Having not slept much, I moved through my day at work slowly and methodically. I just did the day, you know? Then 5:00 came, and I realized that I was going to be alone all evening. That's when the tears welled up, though they didn't fall. I heaved dry sobs, and the pain my stomach ... oy. Typing this up, it seems ridiculously mellow-dramatic, but again, this whole process has caused real pain in the past. I didn't give it up last time because it was easy. I don't do single well. Period.

Maybe I should explain. It wasn't that I was going to be alone that did it, because I am alone a lot of evenings in general. It was that I was going to be alone, and I didn't know how to not be alone. I didn't have a go-to person to call and say, "Hey, when will you be home? I can have dinner ready." In fact, I had no one to worry about for dinner but me. That realization bowled me over, and not in a good way.

Theme 1: Learn to be comfortable alone

To save me from myself, I took the dogs for a long walk, then went grocery shopping. Here's where my mental gymnastics really shone. I put on a fairly short sundress, because it shows off my legs which I've been told are really nice and I wanted to be looked at and admired. I wandered the store, trying to decide what to buy, and I focused on what to eat to lose weight to be more attractive. At one point, I stopped myself from buying hair dye because I legitimately didn't know if I wanted to dye my hair for me... or to look less old to maybe attract a partner.

Nearly every decision that I made as I wandered that store centered on how to make myself more appealing - in a conventional sense - to men to get their attention. I know that I thrive on the idea that someone finds me sexually attractive. I even know why; I've had decades of therapy to figure this out. When I was a child, I was sexually assaulted, and then raped in high school. Doesn't take even a BS in Psychology to know that will cause some issues. So yeah, okay, got it. Even at nearly 50, this crap is coming up. The question isn't what or why, but how to fix it.

Specifically, how do I decide what I like for me without focusing on what affect those things might have on some unknown man on the street (or in the store)? I'm going to admit that it really disturbed me to realize exactly how much this comes up in my thinking just walking through a freaking grocery store. It is sad how little I know about my own wants and needs, irrespective of the men I come into contact with. What is wrong with me?? Damn....

Theme 2: Determine personal wants/needs/likes outside of external input
     Subtheme A: Do more thinking about what I think and less about what others
     think

A Single Year and a Day

Introduction

Two years ago, I walked away from a 12-year marriage. The why isn't nearly as important as the how: I packed a 10-foot by 10-foot U-haul with whatever fit, loaded the cab with my 18-year-old daughter, her dog, and my two cats. We then drove 2100 miles across the country, from Champaign, Illinois to Portland, Oregon.

I was 47 years old, my four children were all adults, and it was time to start my life over, this time for me.

The problem was that I didn't really know how to do that. I'd lived my life for others for so long that this whole "focus on me" thing was not only alien, it hurt. I cried a lot. I ached with loneliness. The entire "learn to be alone" thing just didn't happen. Within six months, I joined several dating sites and met a really nice guy.

Flash forward 18 months and we're standing on his back porch, watching my dogs - that he's spent as much time with as I have - play in the yard. Atypically, stars shine clearly in the Portland sky. We'd just spent a pretty wonderful week together, and I had started moving in. The man beside me, someone I'd grown to love and respect if not always adore, sighs heavily and says, "Roana, you're my best friend..."

... my heart melted...

"...but I'm not sure about the romantic side of our relationship." And with that, I was single again.

As I lay there in his bed - it was after 11pm when he told me this, and we'd been drinking so I stayed the night - tossing and turning, trying to understand what had happened and why - something clicked in me. I was single again. All of those things that I'd wanted to do before were available to me. I could learn to be alone, but for real this time. I could learn to take care of myself first (how do people do that??). I could figure out what I like to wear, how I like my hair, and the beauty in my own body without worrying about how a guy is seeing it.

Of course, the problem before was that doing all of those things were hard. So hard, that I gave up and jumped on the dating sites to find someone to distract me from myself. In reality, I simply didn't do single well. I am nearly 50, and I'm pretty sure that I haven't been single for more than a few months since I was 14. I put the "serial" in serial monogamy. It was time.

So this is my Single Year and a Day blog. I hope to blog something every day, but I know myself well-enough to know that may not happen. At the same time, this is kind of my diary of learning to be me. The motivation to write what happens, how I feel, and how I'm doing will be strong. Maybe on May 11, 2020, I'll be able to look back through this and see where growth happened.

Anyway. here's to living single... even when you're absolutely terrified of it.

Why women don't go into Computer Science

Today, I attended my first Intro to Computer Programming class. I was the only woman in a class of 18. Surprisingly, I don't think that I was the oldest in the class, as there was a gentleman who seemed at least my age, if not a bit older. The professor is a very large, very geeky, very socially inept man who studied computer programming when it was still called data processing (college in the 1970s).

The trouble started when I took my seat. I'd made an egregious error and sat directly next to a young man instead of sitting a seat away from him. (It was the closest seat I could get to.) He looked at me as if I'd just offered him a toasted tarantula, spun in his seat, and refused to look at me the entire class. Well all right then.

Then came the "social" aspect of the class. You all know how wonderful these are, right? Tell us about yourself, yadda yadda. In this case, the professor handed out neon yellow sheets of paper and asked us to write our names, addresses, and phone numbers on the top middle of the paper. Then, draw a 5" x 5" square in the center of the paper. (Older man in class, named Cleotis: "But I don't have a ruler!" Prof: "Just estimate." Cleotis: "Without a ruler, I can't estimate!" Prof: "Just give it your best shot. It's okay if it's not perfect." Cleotis: "It's not gonna' be perfect without a ruler.") Then, we were told to draw a self-portrait in the box. Half the class looked completely panicked; the other half thought this was hilarious. After the drawing portion of the class, he had us turn the paper over and answer a series of questions about ourselves. You know, thinks like what math classes have we had, what computer classes have we had, the names of any of our pets, etc. We turned the papers in (the kid next to me didn't even turn his head to look at me when he passed the papers my way), and then came the really fun part.

The professor stands in the front of the class and says, "Okay, now we're going to do the social part of things." He looks at me and says, "This is going to be easy for you. The social part is always easy for women. It's when we get to the programming that it's going to be hard because you have to focus on one small thing at a time, and women have a hard time with that. But that's okay, because you're going to have it so much easier with the social stuff, like now....But there are some very good women programmers out there, because women are so organized!"

He continues with, "Okay [he says okay a LOT], I want you to introduce yourself to your classmates, and learn all you can because then you're going to be introducing your classmates to everyone else when we're done. Okay? Now, go." At which point, the kid next to me immediately turned his back to me so that he could converse with the kid sitting next to him. (That kid is my favorite in the class. He's the only one who treated me like a person. His mannerisms make me think that he has Auspergers Syndrome, which may be why he didn't treat me any differently than anyone else.) I looked around and everyone had paired up, leaving me sitting at the desk looking utterly ridiculous. For several minutes, I just sat there. Then I pulled out my phone and started texting my husband, because, well why not, no one else was talking to me.

A few minutes later, the guy behind me tapped me on the shoulder and introduced himself to me. He's an older guy - well, older than the rest of the class - at around 25 or so, and very cute. He had just moved to town eight days ago from Panama so that he could take classes at this community college so he can transfer to UIUC. We chatted briefly (he hates the cold, he's living with a female friend at the moment, no family here with him) before I hit the death knell to the conversation: I brought up the fact that I was married. Almost as soon as I mentioned my husband, the guy bowed out of the conversation. Kid you not, I mentioned Max, and within two more words, he nodded out of the conversation and started talking to the guy next to him again. Huh. Well, alrighty then.

The introductions come next, and the prof started with the Panamanian, Christian, who proceeded to introduce the guy next to him. Around the room they go, sharing this and that about each other. One guy had gotten up at the start of the introductions part to "use the restroom" and didn't come back until the introductions. He got to introduce himself, so he said his name and that he's a full-time student. Next!

My favorite guy, the one who I think has Auspergers, was awesome! He introduced the guy next to me by telling everyone his full name (middle name, too), age, birthday, number of siblings (and genders), favorite video systems (and which one he owns), favorite video games, which systems his mother owned (Wii) and which ones he owned himself, what he's planning to go to school for, and his favorite color. One of the other guys said, "How'd you guys get an hour when we only got 10 minutes?"

The prof goes around the room and when he gets to me he says, "So, did anyone talk to you?" I said that yes, I'd met Christian, and indicated the guy behind me. The prof asked me to introduce Christian to the class, so I did, mentioning that he was from Panama, had just moved here, wasn't liking the cold - at which point the professor interrupted me mid-word to tell a story. He then passed on to the next guy. (And before anyone asks, no, I wasn't rambling. I had said exactly as much as I posted here before I was interrupted.) No one introduced me to the class.

The prof then moves on to start actually, you know, teaching the class. He starts out with a sports reference, moves on to a gaming reference, and from there jumps into some technical jargon about some scientific study about how programmers work. Finally, he commences with the teaching, which he did fairly well. I enjoyed the way he explained things, and he did a great job with entertaining questions and getting the class involved.

There are at least two guys who are obviously going to be messing with the prof throughout the class. They'd tried to sit in the back row, but the prof made them sit in the front row instead. They know quite a bit about computers, so this is obviously a pre-req for them and not something that they're going to learn anything in. That led to quite a bit of taunting of the prof, who mostly missed it because he's so socially inept that he didn't get it.

There's another guy who is absolutely adorable. It's obvious that he's an over-achiever type who just wants to get things done right, and the professor's inability to answer his very specific questions regarding how the grading is going to work was making him more and more agitated as the class went on. After class, he finally cornered the prof to get direct answers, but he left probably more frustrated than he had been. I felt so sorry for him because you can tell that he's going to be a mess until he gets those questions answered.
Most of the guys in the class are younger - 18 to 22 probably - with Cleotis (pronounced clee-OH-tis), Christian, and maybe one other guy older than that (he came in late and missed the introductions, lucky duck).

The topic is interesting, and the personalities are a trip, but if the prof keeps trying to be so "inclusive" of me in the class, I don't know how long I'll last. It was pretty clear that he was just trying to prove that he didn't mind women in his class, but in doing so came across so horribly. I really have no idea why, but I felt completely humiliated by the end of the whole "social" part of the class. I just wanted to crawl into a hole. His social ineptitude should not make me feel awful, and yet somehow, it did.

So the next time someone asks, "Why are there so few women in computer science?" you'll know the answer.

Change But Not

This February will mark 19 years that I've lived in Illinois. That's 14 years longer than I'd intended. Now, it looks as though I'll be stretching my time in this state out another year or two... or more.

My first reaction when my husband told me that he'd been offered a job was elation. Finally, I could hand the responsibility of our family's financial well-being off to him. He had completed his degree, and the onus fell to him. He set to work applying for hundreds of jobs from one side of the nation to the other. I knew that my time in the Midwest was drawing to a close. Then he said that the job he'd been offered would be here in Central Illinois. I didn't bother stemming the tears.

Several friends have asked me why I want to leave here, what's so awful about where we live? Nothing is awful about Central Illinois. My issue has nothing to do with the state, and everything to do with me.

You see, my goal in life has always been to travel, to see new things, learn about different cultures, find out who I am when I'm not with people just like me. Unfortunately, due to a series of life circumstances, that hasn't happened. The furthest that I've ever lived from my childhood home in Iowa is here, in the heart of Illinois. I have traveled - England (twice), Canada, and 30 of the 50 US states - but what I haven't done is lived elsewhere. Traveling has its place, and I certainly enjoy it tremendously, but a vacation is not the same as living somewhere. It's like taking a sip of ambrosia before someone whips it away from you. You get to  glimpse your ignorance, only to have to leave without learning how deep it goes.

For those who are happy in the safety of what they know, this must seem odd at best, and downright bizarre at worst. I don't know how to explain it other than to say that my soul yearns to know what's on the other side of the fence, the road, the city, and beyond. That lack of knowledge taunts me, a bone in the face of a starving mutt. No distraction will pull my sights from it. I see nothing but the horizon.

Knowing how I feel - and with a bit of his own wanderlust to contend with - my husband hesitated to take the job. Though the position is ideal in nearly every way, he questioned the wisdom of accepting it. Would doing so cause more harm than good? Would I - could I - accept another year or so in the confines of cornfields and soybeans? Could he? The job would mean financial security the likes of which we'd never known in our married life. It would mean stability for our four children, and us. And most importantly of all, it would offer him a leg-up for any job he wanted down the road. How could he not take it?

So, here I sit, amid the wind-scorched acres of land, wishing that I were anywhere but in this chair, in this house, in this town. Again. Nineteen years is a long time to yearn for something, and though I often wonder if I will ever leave this place, I know that we've done the right thing. For right now, this is where we belong, for better or for worse, and we'll deal with the disappointment. For now.